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THE DREAM OF EUGENE ARAM.

With one besetting, horrid hint,

That racked me all the time: A mighty yearning, like the first Fierce impulse unto crime:

"One stern tyrannic thought, that made
All other thoughts its slave.
Stronger and stronger every pulse

Did that temptation crave,

Still urging me to go and see

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The dead man in his grave.

Heavily I rose up, as soon

As light was in the sky,

And sought the black accursed pool
With a wild misgiving eye;

And I saw the dead in the river bed,
For the faithless stream was dry.

"Merrily rose the lark, and shook The dew-drop from its wing;

But I never marked its morning flight,

I never heard it sing;

For I was stooping once again

Under the horrid thing.

"With breathless speed, like a soul in chase,

I took him up and ran;

There was no time to dig a grave

Before the day began;

THE DREAM OF EUGENE ARAM.

In a lonesome wood, with heaps of leaves, I hid the murdered man!

"And all that day I read in school,
But my thought was other where ;
As soon as the mid-day task was done,
In secret I was there;

And a mighty wind had swept the leaves,
And still the corse was bare!

"Then down I cast me on my face,
And first began to weep,

For I knew my secret then was one
That earth refused to keep,
Or land or sea, though he should be
Ten thousand fathoms deep.

"So wills the fierce avenging Sprite,
Till blood for blood atones!
Aye, though he's buried in a cave,
And trodden down with stones,
And years have rotted off his flesh,
The world shall see his bones!

"O God! that horrid, horrid dream.
Besets me now awake!
Again-again, with dizzy brain,

The human life I take;

And my red right hand grows raging hot,

Like Cranmer's at the stake.

WHEN STARS ARE IN THE QUIET SKIES.

"And still no peace for the restless clay
Will wave or mould allow :
The horrid thing pursues my soul;

It stands before me now!"
The fearful boy looked up, and saw
Huge drops upon his brow.

That very night, while gentle sleep
The urchin's eyelids kissed,

Two stern-faced men set out from Lynn

Through the cold and heavy mist; And Eugene Aram walked between,

With gyves upon his wrist.

THOMAS HOOD.

WHEN STARS ARE IN THE QUIET SKIES.

WHEN stars are in the quiet skies,

Then most I pine for thee; Bend on me then thy tender eyes,

As stars look on the sea.

For thoughts, like waves that glide by night,

Are stillest when they shine;

Mine earthly love lies hushed in light
Beneath the heaven of thine.

There is an hour when angels keep

Familiar watch o'er men,

When coarser souls are wrapped in sleep;
Sweet spirit, meet me then!

MADRIGAL.

There is an hour when holy dreams
Through slumber fairest glide,
And in that mystic hour it seems
Thou shouldst be by my side.

My thoughts of thee too sacred are
For daylight's common beam;
I can but know thee as my star,
My angel and my dream!
When stars are in the quiet skies,

Then most I pine for thee;
Bend on me then thy tender eyes,

As stars look on the sea.

EDWARD BULWER LYTTON

MADRIGAL.

As I saw fair Chloris walk alone,
The feathered snow came softly down,
As Jove descending from his tower

To court her in a silver shower.
The wanton snow flew to her breast,
As little birds into their nest;
But, overcome with whiteness there,
For grief dissolved into a tear;
Thence falling on her garment's hem,
To deck her, froze into a gem.

ANONYMOUS.

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SHE dwelt among the untrodden ways,
Beside the springs of Dove,

A maid whom there were none to praise,
And very few to love:

A violet by a mossy stone,
Half hidden from the eye;

Fair as a star, when only one
Is shining in the sky.

She lived unknown, and few could know

When Lucy ceased to be;

But she is in her grave, and O,

The difference to me!

WILLIAM WORDSWORTH.

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